Our Time Together
by Rachel Greenwood
Summary: Seventeen years after Titanic, Jack and Rose have an encounter with someone from the past. Complete.


_Fall 1929_

"Tell me what it looks like?"

"The floors are white marble. There's a table sitting right in the middle of the hall, but I don't think it has a purpose. The walls are covered with some kind of black fabric. I don't know what it is."

"Can I touch it?"

"Just reach out."

"It's silk damask."

"Oh no. Our hosts are staring at us," Jack murmured in mock horror. He slipped an arm around Rose's waist and steered her toward the stairs at the end of the hallway. Polite music flowed from the two double doors at the top of the stairs. An immaculately dressed couple stood outside the doors, greeting each guest. They looked so similar most new acquaintances mistook them for siblings rather than husband and wife. They each had pale brown hair. She wore hers swept away from her face in a complicated style that required the assistance of not one but two maids. His was close-clipped, and he wore a thin mustache. Their eyes were the exact same shade of grey. At forty, his vision was just beginning to fade, while hers was sharper than ever. "Good evening," she said, reaching for Rose's hand. "I'm Amelia. Benson. This is my husband, Frank." Her smile flickered as she surveyed these latest two guests. Their addition to the party had been her sister's doing, no doubt. Perturbed by Rose's continued ignoring of the gesture, she withdrew her hand. To her surprise, Jack stuck out his own. "Jack Dawson," he said brightly. "My wife, Rose." Rose's mouth turned up in a faint smile.

"Won't you go inside?" Amelia said, regaining her composure. Turning to Frank, she added, "Dear, let them pass."

"That was rude," Jack said, once they were safely out of earshot. "She was rude," Rose replied. "Didn't you see the way she looked at us?"

"I saw it. I just thought you couldn't."

"I may not have been able to physically see it, but I felt it. A look that strong can be seen without working eyes." She took a deep breath. "What have we walked into?"

"Well, it's a large room full of people."

Rose rolled her eyes. "I heard as much on the stairs," she said dryly. Jack chuckled. "Alright," he said. "I'll be serious. It's ballroom, and I'm betting it covers the whole floor. Speaking of, we've got more marble up here. I'd really hate to slip in this house. The far wall is made of French doors that lead onto a terrace. The musicians are in the corner—"

"Playing some rather dull tunes."

He chuckled again. "Yeah, well, when we see our hosts again you can tell them what bad taste they have."

"Don't worry. I will."

Jack shook his head. "I think losing your sight affected more than just your ability to see." He led her over to a table near the back wall. A waiter instantly appeared. "Champagne, sir?" Jack nodded, grabbing two glasses. "Why do you always get two?" she asked. "You know I don't bother drinking mine anymore."

"Habit, I guess," he answered. "And also, it's harder than you'd think to get a second glass at some of these things. I think there's a rule against it."

Rose sighed heavily. "My husband, the drunkard. What shall I and our six children do?"

"We don't have children," he reminded her, taking a sip. "Oh that's right. We don't," she said. "Do you ever wonder why?" He took another sip. "Not lately," he admitted. "I figure if it's gonna happen it will." She arched an eyebrow. "And if it doesn't?" she pressed. He shrugged. "Then it doesn't. I don't think there's much we can do about it. Besides, I'm pretty happy the way things are." He touched her hand. "I mean, I've got you."

"And your painting."

"And my painting."

"And the women who invite you to their parties."

"And—Are you implying something, Mrs. Dawson?"

She grinned. "Well, it isn't as though I'd be able to see it if anything was to happen." He laced his fingers through hers. "The only illicit affair I've ever had was with you," he said. "Although I didn't have the decency to think of it that way at the time."

"Neither did I," she replied. She leaned back in her chair with a sigh. "Jack, I don't know what's wrong with me tonight. I keep thinking about how we met, the things we haven't done, the things we have done. Perhaps it's simply all the stares I know we're getting."

"You've never cared about that."

"I don't." Her voice became low, conspiratorial. "I know they're all thinking, how can they be happy? Such a shiftless, unrespectable couple—no permanent home, no children, no mistresses. Just gallivanting around the world. Vulgar art—produced and collected. A very rude wife and a very unmanly husband. And yet we are happy." Her eyes glowed. She squeezed his hand. "Jack, I love you more now than I did seventeen years ago."

For a moment, he was sure she could see him. Her gaze focused so intently on his face it was impossible for her not to be seeing him. But then, as quickly as it began, it was over, and her eyes took on the unfocused look they had worn for five years. His chest tightened. He wanted to kiss her but didn't dare. He settled for kissing her hand.

"I'm ruining the party," she said. "This isn't the type of discussion one has at an event like this."

"I don't see why not. In fact, I bet we could spend the whole night sitting right here and no-one would notice." He quickly scanned the room. "I don't even think the woman who invited us is here."

"It seems a waste to invite someone if you aren't going to be there to see them," Rose observed. "It would have saved our actual hosts the trouble of having to look at us." Jack glanced around the room again. It was nearly full. The doors were still open, but the Bensons had vacated their posts and were sweeping through the crowd. Amelia tossed a little wave in their direction but made no effort to reach them. Frank, somehow managing to detach himself from her arm, wandered over. "You look rather bored," he said. His eyes settled on Rose, ignoring Jack completely. "Have you been offered a drink?"

Rose's mouth twisted into the thin smile she reserved for particularly odious people. It was a smile perfected during her engagement to Cal. "I don't drink," she said. "My faculties are diminished enough as it is." Jack watched, amused, as Frank attempted to make sense of her statement. About half the people they met realized Rose was blind within the first few minutes; the other half had to be told, in painstaking detail, or else they never caught on. "Oh!" Frank cried. "Oh, I see. I'm sorry. I didn't realize. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"My husband is more than capable," she answered coolly. "Oh, yes," he said, as if noticing Jack for the first time. "Well, I should be getting back to the other guests." Nodding awkwardly at Jack, he hurried back to the center of the crowd. Jack snorted. "What was he trying to do, seduce you with me watching?"

"I think that's exactly what he was hoping to do. However, I don't find pompous, mousy little men attractive."

"How do you know he was mousy?"

"Jack, you know how much you can tell from a person's voice."

"What can you tell from mine?"

"Nothing I don't already know," she replied. She stood up and held out her hand. "Dance with me?" He took her hand. "This is music is awful," he reminded her. "I know," she said. "But I feel like dancing with you." Grinning, he pulled her closer. "We're gonna be the only ones," he said. They moved across the floor, swaying slowly. "Maybe we'll inspire someone," she said.

Amelia couldn't believe her eyes. "Are they dancing?" she exclaimed. The woman on her right laughed. "I believe they are," she said. Amelia frowned. "Surely they realize no-one else is. What an utterly preposterous thing to do."

"They don't seem to care," replied the same woman. Her dark blue eyes sparkled. Her pale red hair was swept away from her face by diamond studded combs. "I think I like them." Amelia shot her an irritated glance. "Really, Gloria, I can't imagine why you say such things."

"What sort of things?" asked a deep, smooth voice. Amelia's ill-humor vanished; a smile lit up her face. "Your wife was just admiring some of my more unusual guests," she explained. Cal turned to Gloria. "I didn't realize you invited unusual people to your parties," he said. "Which ones?"

"The dancing couple, over there," Gloria answered. "Don't you just love how they don't seem to notice anyone else is here?" Cal scanned the crowd with little interest. "Yes," he said. "It's—" Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a flash of flaming red hair. His breath caught in his throat. That was absurd; of course it wasn't her. "My sister invited them," Amelia explained, sounding somewhat guilty. "It seems she met them in Greece. They're supposed to be 'simply fascinating people', but I haven't seen any signs of it."

Gloria's curiosity was roused. "Is that all she said about them?"

"He's an artist of some kind, though I've never heard of him. She—I don't actually remember what it is she does. She's quite rude, though, I can tell you that. When they arrived—" Cal didn't hear the rest. He stared, frozen, at the couple dancing directly in front of him. Rose's hair was longer. Her clothes were lovely, if less ornate than when he last saw her. Clearly, someone with a good eye had chosen them. Jack's suit was well-cut and made of good fabric; he wore it well. He was more developed now. The lithe young man had ripened into a well-muscled maturity. Rose looked better as well. He couldn't quite pinpoint what it was about her, exactly, but there was something. She gazed up at Jack, adoration written in her features. The kiss that followed was long and slow. Cal wanted to look away, but it was impossible.

"Oh, they're coming over here," Gloria observed. "I hope not," Amelia said irritably. "The last thing I—" She bit back the words as Jack and Rose twirled to a stop. Rose clung to him, laughing. Cal set his jaw and forced a look of nonchalance onto his face. Jack brushed stray curls away from Rose's face. "We had a great time," he said, turning to Amelia. "Thank your sister for inviting us."

"I'll be sure to," she said stiffly.

"Don't go yet," Gloria pleaded. "I wanted to meet you." Cal laid a hand on her shoulder. "If they need to be going, you shouldn't interfere," he said, as though speaking to a child. Jack's eyes widened slightly. "I'm sure they're bored at a party like this," he continued, meeting Jack's gaze.

"We can stay a little longer," Rose said. "I like her voice," she added, turning to Jack. He shrugged. "You're the boss," he said, chuckling quietly. His grin widened as Cal stiffened. "So, Amelia tells me you met her sister in Greece?" Gloria asked, unaware of the mounting tension. "Yeah, that's right," Jack answered, keeping his eyes on Cal. "We were there for the summer."

"Isn't it a rather wild country?" Gloria went on. "I've heard horrifying stories."

"It's fine if you stick to the right places," Amelia explained. "The hotels, resorts—the rest of the country, however, is barbaric."

"Not at all," Rose said. "It's wonderful. You're missing everything worth seeing if you only stay in a hotel for tourists. Why even bother leaving home if you're going to do that?" To Gloria she said, "You should go, if only for the food. That's probably what I remember best about being there."

"What about the ruins?" Gloria pressed, eager to hear more. "Did you see them?"

"I stood in front of them. Jack will have to tell you about them if you want to know more than whether they were hot or cold," Rose answered. Gloria blushed. "Oh, I hadn't noticed—I didn't realize—I'm terribly sorry," she stammered. Rose smiled warmly. "I don't mind," she said. "Why should you?" An awkward silence fell. Cal shifted, trying to avoid Jack's stare. He didn't want to look at Rose, but now he couldn't look anywhere else. Until that moment, he hadn't given any thought to the change in her eyes. Knowing she couldn't see him was strangely reassuring. Gloria broke the silence. "Have you always been—blind?"

"No," Rose said. "Not always." Jack tightened his arm around her waist. She pressed a hand against his chest. "I'm being stared at, aren't I?" she said, turning toward him. "Perhaps someone should tell him he may as well speak if he wants to. I heard his voice already." Jack couldn't suppress a grin. "I think you just did," he said, glancing over at Cal. "He doesn't look like he wants to talk."

Rose leveled her sightless eyes on Cal's face. "If there was something he wanted to say," she said. "This would be the chance." Cal's frown deepened. "What about you?" he snapped. Rose laughed. "Us? Jack, is there anything we need to tell?"

"Nope. Can't think of anything." He snapped his fingers. "Oh, wait. Yeah, there is something. You know, we've really been enjoying our time together. We should share that, dontcha think?" Rose laughed again. "Come on," she said, taking his hand. "We've alienated ourselves from enough nice people for one evening." She flashed a smile in Gloria's direction. "Lovely to meet you," she added. She nodded curtly in Amelia's general direction. "And things turned out well," she said, turning toward Cal. "You don't have to breathe so angrily." Jack simply nodded at the group and swept Rose away.

 **AN: I've actually written several stories with a blind Rose at different times. I don't know why. This is an old story. I'm working on putting all my stories onto one account and re-doing some of the ones that could be better.**


End file.
